My family and peers have rarely understood it, but they have fully supported it. Rollerblading is something that I not only enjoy doing every spare minute I get, but it really has become a full-fledged part of me. In many ways it has defined me as a person. Rollerblading has shaped my desires and aspirations, as well as my career path and my successes. It has differentiated me. It affects the way I look at my surroundings, the aesthetics I incorporate, and the activities I participate in.

As my body gets older and my mind matures, my rollerblading has evolved and changed, keeping it constantly fresh and exciting. When I was a young teenager all I wanted was to learn switch ups and technical grinds down handrails. Now I can’t even remember the last time I sessioned a traditional handrail. Actually it was probably two, maybe three years ago.

Towards the end of high school I thought I was invincible, looking for the biggest drop rails and disasters I could find. I would fall and be able to get right back up and try again. After coming back from serving as missionary in rural Peru for two years, that need for an adrenaline rush continued and opportunities arose (Be-mag #33 interview). That phase faded away with multiple headshots, a blown ACL, torn MCL and meniscus, and with changing priorities when I married my wife.

There is only so much you can put your body through, as well as a limit on the number of spots you can throw yourself off of. On the other hand, there are endless possibilities when you engage your mind and not just your courage. For me, blading has now become a constant search—a search for new terrain, new spots and new obstacles. The internal challenge isn’t about how many switch-ups I can do or how big of a drop I can take, but rather about questioning how skateable my surroundings can be. Now it’s all about the search, and how the importance of rollerblading to me continues to evolve. Blade life. — Billy “Beastmaster” Anderson

Photos by Andy Luke